


The Interview

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11236614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: Interviews are supposed to be revealing.  When Bruce Wayne is the one being interviewed, one never knows where things will go.(Sorry about the formatting.  The story wasn't posting right when I was copying it in.  Everything is there, it just doesn't quite look how I want it.  I thought I would rather get it posted than get it pretty.)





	The Interview

The Interview

(EDIT: I didn't like how the formatting looked in the last posted version, so I went back and made the editing corrections, to make this look how I wanted it.  Hopefully it is easier to read now.)

 

For once, Bruce felt good at work.  It wasn't something that happened often, and Bruce took a second to appreciate that he hadn't had a scowl on his face for most of the day.  Bruce was working hard this Friday, hoping to get out of work early and get home before traffic.  It had been a busy week, but Bruce didn't feel overwhelmed, like he did most Fridays, when last minute work was submitted to him.

Finally, after a long week, Bruce was done.  He pushed himself away from his desk with a satisfied sigh, and turned his chair to take in the commanding view of Gotham City afforded to him by his floor to ceiling windows.

The door to his office opened, surprising the man.  Usually, Jean would call on the intercom first, before entering.  "Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce heaved a sigh, but not a mean-spirited one, "Yes, Jean?"

The secretary approached the desk, "Oh, good.  You _are_ still here.  Your three-thirty meeting is here, sir."

Bruce checked his watch to see that it was, indeed, three-thirty.  Then, he glanced up in confusion.  "I don't have a three-thirty scheduled, Jean.  I've had all my meetings for the week.  I'm not seeing anyone else; I'm getting ready to go home."

"I think this meeting is important enough to stay for a few more minutes," the woman said.

Bruce turned and saw a hopeful expression on the woman's face.  "What are you angling at, Jean?"

The secretary walked the rest of the way across the office and leaned on Bruce's desk.  "This will be good for you, Mr. Wayne.  He just has a few questions for a project."

Bruce gave a small sigh, "Well, if it's for a project.  What department is this guy from?"

Jean looked around the office, trying not to seem as evasive as she was trying to be.  "He's not exactly from a department.  He said he needs help to write his paper, and hoped you would be able to help him."

Bruce looked confused, "Write a paper?  What is he, ten?"

"I think he said he was twelve," Jean said lightly.

Bruce huffed and cradled his head in his hands.  "Jean," he said in an exasperated voice, "What are you trying to do to me?  The last thing I need right now is to be around some kid."

The woman looked at her boss with compassion written on her face, "I know the wound will never heal, Bruce, but you have to start somewhere.  If it helps anything, he doesn't look a thing like Jason."

Bruce's head shot up at the mention of his departed son's name.  The dagger twisted in his heart as he thought of the boy he tried to save, but ultimately couldn't.  Jean took a step back at the look being shot at her and thought, _right, three months is not enough time.  He really was attached to that kid of his._

"No, that doesn't help at all," Bruce grumbled angrily.

"If anything, sir, he looks a bit like Dick, at that age."

Bruce winced sharply.  _Of course, my other failure as a father._   "Right.  Of course he looks like Dick.  Any of my _other_ failures you want to throw in my face today?"

Jean lost any sort of smile she might have still held on her face, "Dick is not a failure."

"I never said he was," Bruce said harshly, "I'm the failure.  I couldn't keep my boys safe."

"Dick is just fine, Bruce."

Bruce snorted, "You'd probably know that better than me at this point.  He hasn't been home in years.  I haven't seen him in months.  I haven't talked to him in weeks. Â I made so many mistakes, Jean."

Jean took a deep breath, "Well, here's your chance to do something you're good at again.  You can make a kid happy.  He's just a boy, looking for some help with a school assignment.  You can answer a few questions.  It won't hurt anything.  I know you've already finished your work for the week."  The woman winked at Bruce, "Besides, aren't you the least bit curious about how he talked his way past security?  How he made it to the top floor of your building with nothing more than a visitor pass and a smile?"

Bruce considered the question, "I _am_ a bit curious how that happened, now that you mention it.  What did he do to charm you, Jean?"

Jean smiled, "Talk to him for a few minutes.  I think you'll figure it out."

Bruce blew out a long breath, "I'm expecting Alfred in a little over half an hour.  He has that long to get everything he needs for his project."

Jean smiled as she headed for the door, "You're making a good decision, Mr. Wayne."

Jean was gone for less than ten seconds before she led a young boy into the office.  Bruce's eyes widened at the sight.  _She wasn't kidding.  He really does look like Dick at that age...except for the eyes.  This boy has brown eyes, where Dick's are closer to my blue eyes._

The boy looked up at Jean, who motioned the youth forward with a gentle smile.  Bruce stood and walked around his desk as the boy nervously shuffled forward.  _Jean didn't even tell me his name,_ Bruce thought.  _I probably should have asked._

As the child walked slowly forward, dragging his feet a bit, the likeness to a young Dick became more prominent.  _He's definitely taller than Dick was at that age, and heavier.  The eyes are definitely different.  Other than that, though, with the shape of the face, the hair, the walk, the mannerisms, the same inquisitive look...I don't think they could quite be brothers, but they could definitely pass for cousins._

Bruce pasted a smile on his face and took a step closer to the obviously nervous youth.  "Hello, young man.  I'm..."

"Bruce Wayne," the child interrupted in an awed voice, reaching for the hand that Bruce held out.  Due to the way the boy had dragged his feet the entire length of Bruce's office, there was a spark when their hands connected.  The boy's eyes widened as they both felt the shock.  "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce laughed it off and said, "It's okay.  These things happen...I'm sorry, but Jean didn't tell me your name."

The boy blushed, "Oh.  I'm Timothy, sir.  Timothy Drake."

Bruce smiled as he headed back to the other side of his desk.  "Well, Timothy Drake, have a seat.  Jean said you have some questions for me, but first, I have some questions for you."

Tim swallowed nervously as he perched on the edge of the chair on the opposite side of the desk.  "O-okay."

Bruce gave the boy a hawkish look, "First, how did you get past security in the lobby?"

Tim blushed again, "I...I told them I had an appointment, and that I was on assignment as a junior reporter for the Gotham Gazette."

Bruce's smile grew, "And they bought that?"

Tim relaxed a bit, but only a bit.  "I'm here, aren't I?"

Bruce laughed, "Yes, you are definitely here."  Bruce picked up a pen and wrote as he spoke, "Talk with security about screening practices.  Did you try the same tactic on my secretary?"

Tim looked concerned, "Will it get her in trouble if I say yes?"

"No, but it will let me know something about you."

Tim seemed to consider his response.  "Oh, okay.  I told your secretary that I'm here on a school assignment."

Bruce nodded, "Thank you for being honest.  That is what she told me you said.  Now, since you made it this far, you can tell me the real reason for your attempt to infiltrate my building."

Tim's eyes widened dramatically, "I'm really here on a school assignment."

"It's the middle of July, Timothy," Bruce said seriously.

"Summer school," the scared youth replied, "I'm taking a writing class, and we were tasked to interview someone, and write an article in the style of a journalistic interview."

Tim rummaged through the backpack he had worn in and pulled out a printed sheet.  Bruce read the paper from the Gotham Community College Introduction to Writing course.  "Gotham Community College," Bruce asked skeptically, "Jean said she thought you were twelve."

"I _am_ twelve," Tim said, nodding, "I'm getting an early start, and it's something to keep me busy during the summer.  Mom...mom wanted me to do something to keep my mind off of...of dad."

Bruce looked at the youth, who was staring at his lap and trying not to sniffle.  His father had only been dead for a little over a month, and Tim was still adjusting to the loss.

To his credit, Bruce recognized the pain in Tim's voice.  It was the same pain that had inhabited his own voice after the loss of his parents, and had come back a couple months ago, at the loss of his second son.

"I'm sorry, Timothy.  I know what you're feeling, all too well."

Tim looked up and took the tissue Bruce was holding across the desk.  He blew his nose before saying softly, "Thanks, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce handed the assignment paper back and asked, "So, you're getting ahead in your education?"

Tim nodded, still glancing down, "Yeah.  School is easy."

_Hmm_ , Bruce thought.  "It's easy, huh?  You must be pretty smart."

"Yes, sir," Tim said, still distracted by his thoughts, "I qualified for Mensa, but mom can't afford the dues, along with the college classes I'm taking."

Bruce's eyes widened, "When did you do that?"

Tim shrugged, "I took this test at school.  Then, we got this fancy letter sent to the house.  Mom framed it.  It wasn't until last year that I really looked into what the letter meant."  Tim fell silent for a second before looking up and saying, "Oh!  That's not what you asked me.  I qualified five years ago."

Bruce nodded, thinking, _qualified for Mensa at seven years old.  I'm sure he hasn't dimmed any since then.  Maybe I should keep track of this kid, and try to recruit him in a few years?_   "That's impressive, Timothy.  What are you planning on focusing on in college?"

"Computer science, I think.  I'm pretty good with computers."

Bruce smiled at the boy, "You know, Wayne Enterprises has a whole Technology division.  I would be very interested in seeing someone with your intelligence and talents come on board.  At least, after you've had a little more training."

Tim's jaw dropped, "Are...are you offering me a job, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce chuckled, "No."

"Oh.  An internship?"

Bruce shook his head, still smiling, "No.  Wayne Enterprises has age restrictions for those.  Internships start at age sixteen, paid employment at eighteen."  Bruce slid a business card across the desk to the boy.  "When you hit those ages, give me a call.  If you are as impressive at those ages as you are at twelve, I think we can find a place for you on the payroll."

Tim gasped, like he had been handed a golden ticket.  "Thanks, Mr. Wayne!"

Bruce smiled at the boy as Tim stared at the business card, the boy's thoughts obviously buzzing with a future that was looking much brighter than it had before he walked into the office.

"So, now that you've answered my questions, what did you want to ask me?"

Tim looked up from the card, still clenched in his fingers, in confusion, "Huh?  Oh, yeah!  I forgot."

Bruce smiled as Tim bent down to reach into his backpack again.  Tim pulled out a spiral-bound notebook and opened the cover.Â  He held it up, flipping through the pages, looking for his list of questions.  Bruce's jaw dropped as he saw the cover of the notebook.  It was black, with a yellow Batman insignia in the center.

_What the hell is this,_ Bruce thought. _Calm down, Bruce.  There are tons of Batman-themed school supplies out there.  Dick always begged me for them, even though he knew he couldn't have them.  This kid having a Batman notebook doesn't mean anything._

Tim held the notebook up until he was sure that Bruce had seen the cover.  Finally, he folded the cover back, unable to hide the smirk that crossed his features.  _I know you didn't mean to react like that, Mr. Wayne.  You might not know it, but you just answered the main question I came to ask you today._

Tim set the notebook in his lap, then reached down to dig a pencil from his bag.  While he had a second, Bruce thought to himself, _what was that smirk for?  Did he see the reaction on my face?  Did he specifically hold up that notebook for me to see, hoping for a reaction?  Can this kid possibly suspect something that no one is ever supposed to know?_

Tim sat up again, and Bruce had wrangled his features into a carefully neutral mien.  Tim smiled at Bruce and started his questions.  "So, first, thank you for allowing me to interview you today.  I know that this is your family company, but how long have you been in charge of it now?"

Bruce thought for a second, "I took the CEO position in late 1991.  The Board of Directors unanimously voted for my instatement as the head of the family business."

Tim scribbled down the answer on his paper.  "I read your biography on the company website, and it stated you didn't go to college.  Was that an issue with the Board of Directors?"

A sly smirk formed on Bruce's face, "You can get away with a lot when your name is on the side of the building.  I've been the majority shareholder of Wayne Enterprises since I was in diapers, so they really didn't have much choice in the matter."

Tim cocked his head, reminding Bruce of the look Dick used to get as a boy, "Did that rub some people the wrong way?"

Bruce shrugged, "Profit streams and revenues have more than tripled since I took over the big chair, so any complaints about my ability to lead this company have pretty much been silenced and proven wrong."

Tim smiled, "With no special training, you have managed to turn Wayne Enterprises into a global company, encompassing many fields.  How did you become so good at what you do?"

Bruce smiled, "Thank you for that.  I've had a lot of experience in learning how to read people.  I'm also not afraid to put in the long hours to study up on a deal before I make it.  There is no substitute for hard work, Tim, remember that."

Tim nodded, "I'm well aware of that.  How did your earliest times at the company go?  There had to be a lot to learn.  What was it like your first couple years as CEO?"

Bruce gave a short laugh, "There's still a lot to learn.  Business is always changing.  This is the kind of job that you can only do well at.  You can't master it.  If someone tells you they have mastered business, it means that they have stopped trying..." Bruce trailed off as Tim gasped.  "What's wrong?"

Tim sighed, "I broke my pencil.  I don't have another one with me."

Bruce sighed lightly, "I'm sorry, but I don't have a pencil sharpener.  Here, use this."

Bruce reached into his desk drawer and tossed a pen to Tim, who caught it after barely glancing in Bruce's direction.  Bruce didn't have time to marvel at Tim's hand-eye coordination before Tim said, "Huh."

"What?  Does that one not work?"

Tim held up the pen while shaking his head, "No, it's not that.  It's just...this is, like, just a regular pen.  I don't know, I guess I expected you to use something...fancy."

Bruce smirked as he reached into his desk again and pulled out a solid gold fountain pen, which had belonged to his father.  "Something like this, perhaps?"

Tim smiled sheepishly, "Yeah."

Bruce returned the smile, "That is only for special occasions.  Anyway, part of running a business is managing costs.  We can get half a dozen boxes of the regular pens for the same price as one ink refill for the fancy pen."

The boy looked thoughtful, "Huh, I never thought of that."

"You don't make money for your shareholders by being frivolous with your expenses."

Tim nodded, "I guess so.  Okay, where were we?"

Bruce had to think for a second.  "Where were we?  Oh, yeah, my first year in charge was not a good one for the company.  Profits fell quite a bit while I was learning the ropes.  I got lucky, though.  The Board was patient enough to give me a chance, and I've been doing my best to reward that patience.  Even as majority shareholder, I still could have been ousted from the CEO chair.  Now, the Board is looking like a group of geniuses for keeping me after those first few years, but it wasn't always the case."

Tim was nodding with a small smile as he made a few notes in his notebook.  "If you don't mind, I'd like to change the topic a bit.  If you weren't running Wayne Enterprises, what do you think you would be doing?"

Bruce was actually surprised by the question.  It was one he had gotten many times from the press, but one he had never really considered seriously.  "You know, I've never given it much thought.  I like what I'm doing here.  I guess, though, if I wasn't Bruce Wayne, and didn't have the family business, I think I would still want to work in big business.  Probably in some sort of negotiating field.  I like the almost adversarial aspect of it.  Completing a deal is like a battle.  Both sides go into it trying to get the best deal possible out of the collaboration.  You go back and forth, and finally come to an agreement.  It's a thrill."

Tim was nodding as his hand flew across the page, making notes.  "I think I can see you doing something more physical, Mr. Wayne.  You're a big guy.  You could be an athlete, or, like, a Special Forces guy, or something like that."

A small chime rang in the back of Bruce's mind, but he ignored it, figuring this kid wasn't hinting at anything suspicious.  "Possibly.  Staying fit is important."

Tim turned a page in his notebook and asked, "What advice would you have for the next generation, Mr. Wayne?  If you had to train your replacement, what would be your number one lesson for the next in line?"

_That's an interesting way to phrase that question,_ Bruce thought, as the chime rang again in his head.  "I guess my number one lesson would be to expect change, and go with it.  I can guarantee you that things are going to change, so there is no reason to get set in your ways.  If you can stay ahead of the curve, then you will be better able to adapt to new changes that get thrown at you."

Tim nodded slowly, "We both know...well, everyone who lives here knows...Gotham isn't a safe town.  Why have you chosen to keep Wayne Enterprises in Gotham City, when you can literally afford to go anywhere in the world?"

The chime quieted a little, but it was still there.  Bruce took a second to craft an answer for the boy interviewer, "I chose to stay here because Gotham City has potential.  This city was great once.  It's still great, but in a different way than in the past.  Gotham City can be great again, and I think it will happen sooner, rather than later.  I started the Wayne Foundation with that goal in mind.  I want to be around to see this place become a beacon, and I want Wayne Enterprises to be on the forefront of...turning the tide, if you will.  In short, I stay in Gotham City because it's my home, and I can't imagine living anywhere else."

Tim wrote in his notebook, scribbling notes as quickly as he could.  Before he finished writing, he followed up with, "Is that why you chose to become Batman?"

"I...WHAT!?!"

The room seemed to freeze as Bruce's shocked expression met Tim's calm, yet eager, expression.  Silence carried on for another half minute before Bruce recovered enough to say, "I must have misheard your question."

Tim repeated calmly, "I said, is that why you chose to become Batman?"

Bruce gave a practiced, society smile to the question.  "I'm not Batman."

"I think you are," Tim said calmly, "Furthermore, I think you're mentally scrambling to find any explanation that will convince me that you aren't Batman."

Bruce looked at the youth strangely, "What twelve year old says 'furthermore'?"

Tim gave a small smile, "You're not going to distract me, Mr. Wayne.  I know that you're Batman, and I can prove it."

Bruce had entered full hostile negotiation mode at that simple statement.  "I'd be very interested in seeing and hearing your evidence, just to be able to prove to you that I'm not Batman."

"Okay, but I've put together a pretty convincing argument," Tim smirked.

"I can't wait to hear it," Bruce said dryly.

Tim turned to another section of his notebook before saying, "Well, I guess, first, I should point out that no one has ever reported seeing you and Batman at the same place, at the same time."

Bruce smiled, "Under that reasoning, I could be the President of the United States or the Queen of England, too."

Tim shook his head, "You're too tall to be either of them.  You're _not_ too tall to be Batman.  You're the right build, too."

"So is half of the NFL."

Tim consulted his notes, "Your financial situation gives you adequate resources to afford all of the Bat-suits and Bat-gear and Batmobiles."

Bruce shrugged, "So do the financial standings of Bill Gates and Donald Trump.  It doesn't mean anything."

Tim gave another smile, "Again, wrong size."

Bruce gave Tim a shrewd look, "We don't know that, though.  Who has ever gotten good pictures of Batman?  For all we know, he could be...your size.  Maybe _you're_ Batman, Tim?"

The boy giggled, "I'm not Batman.  I wouldn't say no to being Robin, though."

Tim looked up at Bruce with a half-hopeful gaze.  Bruce found that he couldn't look into the hopeful eyes being shown to him.  Instead, he said, "This isn't as convincing as you might have thought it would be.  So far, your argument relies on the facts that I'm a big, rich guy."

Tim pulled two pictures out of his notebook.  One was a publicity photo of Bruce, while the other was a security camera capture of Batman.  Tim placed them side by side and slid them across the desk.  "This looks pretty convincing to me, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce picked up the pictures and compared them for a minute before saying, "All you can see is a chin.  I don't think you can make a definitive identification from a chin."

Tim looked back and forth between Bruce and the pictures, which Bruce had set back on the desktop.  "Are you serious?  That's you, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce pointed to the publicity photo and said, "This one is me.  I don't know who the other one is, under that mask.  How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not Batman?  Besides, I hear that Batman gets into a lot of dangerous stuff.  Why would I want to do that?  And, why would you say you want to do that, too?"

Tim looked astonished, "What boy _wouldn't_ want to be Robin?  You're a hero, Mr. Wayne.  I'm sure there is a reason you do what you do.  I don't know what it is, but you must have a reason."

"What possible reason could I have to want to be Batman?  If I wanted to be some sort of...superhero, why would I choose Batman?  I'm not saying I am some sort of hero, because I'm not, but why wouldn't I choose to be...I don't know, Superman?"

"Well, for one, you live in the wrong town.  Why fight crime there, when you can do it from the comfort of your home city?  Second," Tim gave a full smile and pulled out two more pictures.  The first one was a shot of Superman, while the second was of Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent, "This guy is Superman, not you.  I thought about that one, too.  Who does this guy think he's fooling?  His only disguise is a pair of glasses?  Are people in Metropolis really that gullible?"

Bruce had to hide his joy at the thought process of this boy, but he couldn't kill his pleased smile.  Tim sighed up at Bruce and said, "I'd hoped I wouldn't have to do this, Mr. Wayne, but you're forcing me to pull out the big guns of my argument."

Bruce leaned back in his chair and said, "Fire away."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Tim said apprehensively.  He turned to another page in his notebook, "I've done a lot of research into this, and I think it's conclusive.  You left Gotham between the ages of seventeen and twenty.  When you came back, you started as CEO of Wayne Enterprises.  Three months later is the first reported sighting of Batman.  A year later came the announcement of the formation of the Justice League, with you as a founding member."

Bruce cocked his head, "With _who_ as a founding member?"

Tim rolled his eyes, "With you, Batman.  Remember, I'm still convinced that you're Batman.  You say I haven't convinced you that you are yet.  You haven't done anything to convince me that you _aren't_ yet, either.  Anyway, a year later, the Justice League spends two weeks in France fighting the Amazo robot.  Bruce Wayne is mysteriously missing for that same period of time.  Then, in 1995, you went to the circus, and ended up adopting a kid."

Bruce winced, "The courts never approved a full adoption," Bruce interrupted sadly.

Tim shook his head, "Either way, there is now a young, former acrobat living with you.  Or, there was then.  Three months later, Robin makes his first recorded appearance.  Robin is a young, athletic sidekick, who Batman protects almost like family.  His fighting style is very _acrobatic_.  About five years ago, or so, Robin disappears from the streets at the same time that the society pages report your...whatever you called him...non-adopted kid, moves out.  Several months later, Bludhaven news reports their own costumed vigilante, Nightwing.  His fighting style is awfully similar to Robin's.  Several months later, there is a new Robin around the same time that you take in a kid from the streets.  Two months ago, both disappear at the same time."  Bruce winced as Tim leaned forward, a too-serious look on the youth's face, "What happened to Robin, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce tried his best to cover the hurt that the recent loss of Jason sent through him.  "That's a question that only Batman can answer, Timothy.  As I've said many times now, I'm not Batman, so I don't have an answer to your question."

Tim nodded and consulted his notes again.  "In that case, what happened to...Jason?"

Bruce glared harshly at the boy, making him flinch sharply, "That is a very personal question, Timothy, and the answer is none of your business.  What happened to Jason was a tragic accident, and it is a very painful memory.  Now, I think I've allowed this to go on for long enough.  You didn't come here to interview me for a project, you came here to make baseless, unfounded accusations.  These questions you are asking are very dangerous ones.  There are many in Gotham who would like to know the identity of Batman, myself included.  Actually revealing Batman's identity could be dangerous, though.  It could even get Batman killed.  Just think how much worse this city could be without Batman to protect us."

Tim and Bruce stared at each other for several minutes before Tim finally sighed.  "Okay.  If you say you aren't Batman, then you aren't Batman.  That won't stop me from believing it, though.  Even if you aren't Batman, I think you would make a good one, Mr. Wayne.  Are you sure you aren't Batman?"

Bruce couldn't stop the chortle that escaped him, "Yes, Tim.  I'm sure that I'm not Batman."

Tim silently packed up his notebook and evidence, then placed the borrowed pen and business card carefully on the desk.  Tim seemed a bit depressed as he headed for the door of the office.  "Thank you for your time today, Mr. Wayne.  I really appreciate you taking a few minutes for me."

Tim was halfway to the door when Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder softly.  "Hey, you forgot these."

The youth looked at the business card and pen in the man's hand.  "But, that's your pen."

Bruce shrugged, "I have others.  Don't forget my card, too."

Tim couldn't look Bruce in the face as he said, "Oh, that's okay.  I'm sure I just blew any chance I had to ever work here."

Bruce shook his head, "Don't be so sure, Timothy.  Just because your conclusion was completely wrong, doesn't mean I don't recognize the hard work that went into your research.  That was a lot of deductive reasoning and effort.  Just out of curiosity, when did you first come up with this theory?"

Tim finally looked up again, "I figured it out when I was nine.  I've been refining my research since then."

Bruce hid his shock well, thinking, _if I ever get to the point of taking another Robin, this boy might not be a bad choice.  That will never happen, but still, I should keep track of this kid.  Quietly, of course._

"Well, it took a lot of bravery to come up here and confront me with this theory.  Even if it is completely wrong, it was still very interesting to see your presentation.  I'm very glad to have met you, Timothy.  Like I said, keep my card.  I still think you would be a good addition to Wayne Enterprises."

Tim grew a bright smile as he shook the outstretched hand of the businessman.  "Thank you, Mr. Wayne.  I don't care what you say, I still think you're Batman.  I don't know why you do it, but I'm glad you do.  The city needs you, day _and_ night.  And, remember what I said; I wouldn't say no to being Robin."

Bruce opened his mouth, but Tim interrupted him, "I know, I know.  You're 'not Batman', even though you are.  I promise you, Mr. Wayne, I'll keep it a secret.  I won't tell anyone.  Your secret is safe with me."

They said another parting farewell at the elevator before Bruce turned to his beaming secretary, after Tim left in the elevator.

"See, Mr. Wayne?  That wasn't so bad, was it?  What did you think of him?"

Bruce smiled, "That boy is freakishly intelligent, and very charming.  I can see how he charmed his way past you.  I want you to do me a favor, Jean.  I want you to get me that boy's home address.  He is going to have a bright future, and I want to make sure that future is with Wayne Enterprises."

Jean smiled as she wrote out a note of the request.  "On the recruiting path, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce took a deep breath, "Something like that.  When Alfred gets here, send him right in."  Bruce returned to his office and shut the door.

Bruce had barely sat down at this desk when his door opened and his butler entered the space.  _That was quick,_ Bruce thought.  _His elevator must have arrived as soon as I closed the office door.  I wonder if Alfred saw the kid in the lobby._

"Good afternoon, Alfred.  You aren't going to believe what just happened."

The butler stopped halfway to the desk, "I'm sure it was very interesting, sir, but I have news of my own."

Bruce shook his head, "Believe me, Alfred, I think my news has yours beat.  It's possibly the most important development around here in months."

Bruce stood and walked over to his closet to retrieve his suit jacket.  Alfred followed the man and said, "If I may, sir?"

Bruce looked over and caught the look on Alfred's face.  _His news must be important, for him to be looking like that._   "Of course, Alfred.  I don't really want to talk about my news here, anyway."

The butler nodded, "Very well, sir.  Sir, I received a call today regarding Master Dick."

Bruce's head whipped around as fear caused his stomach to crumble in on itself.  "No," he said softly, "What happened to my baby?"

Alfred held up his hands to forestall further terrible thoughts on the behalf of his still-grieving employer.  "No, you misunderstand, Master Bruce.  Master Dick is fine.  He called to ask my opinion on a matter of importance."

Bruce released a heavy sigh before he grew sad again.  "Oh.  I see.  He used to call _me_ with those questions.  How did he sound?"

Alfred thought back for a second before answering.  "A tad nervous, actually."

"Well, what did he ask?  Or, did he not want me to know?  Does he still think I'm mad at him?"

Bruce asked the last question in such a lost voice that it almost broke Alfred's heart.  "No, sir.  Neither is he still upset with you.  He asked my opinion of a visit this weekend."

Bruce's jaw fell as he stared at Alfred dumbly.  "...My baby wants to come home?  My little boy wants to see us?"

Alfred smiled, "Of course, I told him I would love to see him, but that I should run it by you first."

Bruce's eyes widened, "Why would you tell him something like that?  He's always welcome at home.  It's his home, too."

"I told him that as well, sir, which is why he said he would still come."

Bruce's face lit up with a smile that hadn't found purchase on his face in many months.  He all but ran for the door, calling to Alfred, "We need to go.  When is he coming?"

"How about now?"

A new voice from Bruce's outer office caused Bruce's head to whip around so fast that his neck popped painfully, sending an electric jolt down his back.  In the center of Bruce's outer office stood Officer Dick Grayson of the Bludhaven Police Department, but Bruce only saw little Dickie Grayson, the eternally smiling youth he had taken in years ago.  Father and son froze, staring at each other, drinking in the sight that they both craved for so long.  The nervous look on Dick's face didn't belong there, and if Bruce could make his legs move, he would wipe the look from his son's face.

The loud thump and click of Alfred closing Bruce's office door seemed to wake up the room.  Dick gave a nervous smile as he ran a hand though his hair.  "Hi, Bruce.  Sorry, I didn't have a chance to change after work.  I hope you don't..."

Bruce shot across the room to embrace the man who had been out of his life for too many months.  Dick returned the hug just as tightly as a wet sniffle escaped him.  Bruce whispered to the man his son had turned into, "Shhh.  Don't cry, baby.  I don't mind at all.  I've missed you so much, son."

Dick whispered back, "I've missed you, too.  I...I didn't know if this would ever happen."

"I'm glad it did, Dick."

Dick pulled back so he could look into Bruce's eyes.  "I'm...you're not still disappointed in me?  You're not still ashamed of me for becoming a cop?"

Bruce looked shocked as he shook his head, "I was never disappointed in you.  It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that I was trying to control your life, and you needed to be your own man.  I'm not ashamed of you for finding your own way.  Are you still mad at me for trying to dictate your life to you?"

Dick pulled Bruce in tightly again, "Of course not, Dad."

They hugged for another minute, Jean wiping her eyes at her desk, before Dick said, "I'm glad that you're okay with me finding my own way, because I'm looking for a new job, and I think you might be able to put in a good word for me."

Bruce instantly looked concerned.  "Is something going wrong with your job?  I thought you were doing so well over there?"

Dick shook his head, "It's just time to move on.  Five years as a Bludhaven cop is a long time.  Let's face it, I was never going to retire from there.  I love my job, but I miss out on a lot to do it.  To be honest, I'm looking for something with better hours."

Bruce gave a relieved smile, "Oh, good.  I thought something had happened."

"No, nothing like that," Dick said with a smile.

Bruce looked his son up and down before saying, "We have all weekend to talk about that.  We...we _do_ have all weekend, right?"

Dick looked around, a bit uncomfortably, "Well, no."

"No?"  Bruce sounded like Dick was stealing his candy.

"No, we have all week."

Bruce gasped happily, "All week?"

Dick couldn't help but smile at the joy he was causing Bruce.  "Yeah, all week.  I haven't taken a day off in five years, Bruce.  I've been told that I've worked nine years of shifts in five years' time.  My Captain called me into his office and told me that if I didn't take a week off immediately, I would be suspended for a month."

Bruce gave a soft smile as he threw an arm around Dick's shoulders, "I wonder where you learned that from?"

Alfred had called for the elevator and was holding the door as Bruce and Dick crossed the room.

"I'll see you Wednesday, Mr. Wayne," Jean called from her desk as the men left.

Bruce turned back to his secretary to tell her that he planned on coming in on Monday as usual, then reconsidered, feeling the shoulder under his arm.  Bruce nodded, "Wednesday it is.  Have a good weekend, Jean."

Bruce turned back to his butler and son.  "Let's go home.  I have quite the story to tell you two."

 

**A/N: So, I've mentioned this story in a couple of tales, but I never actually planned on writing it, until I had this idea this week.  This is set a couple months after Jason's death, during the time where Bruce and Dick are just starting to get past the argument that led to the ending of the original dynamic duo.  I'm not really happy with the title.  I think it's a bit plain, but just so you know, the subtitle to this, at least in my mind, is "When Brucie met Timmy".**

**I am working on several stories right now, and School Spirit is next.  I know I've said that before, but this time I mean it.  It is actually coming along nicely, and is almost done.  This one was just done first.**

**I'd love to hear what everyone thinks.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


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